Take It Away
by Kia33
Summary: Dean can't face his guilt - and to face his father, knowing what he's done? Sam is insistent, though. Will facing his father, who is fresh out of Hell, destroy or rebuild the Winchester family? Spoilers: through Season 4, episode 16.


Disclaimer: I own nothing. I do not own Dean, Sam, Castiel, or John, and I most certainly do not own the stories being told in Supernatural. This is completely a fan creation, because, let's face it – the boys are awesome.

A.N. Spoilers up through Season 4, episode 16 – On the Head of a Pin.

Dean was shaking. He clenched his hands into fists, pressing them hard into his legs. "Sam – Sammy-" His voice was hoarse, cracking. "I can't face him. I _can't._"

"You have to. Dean, look at yourself." Sam shook his head. "You're killing yourself. You're working cases nearly twenty-four/seven, you barely eat, barely sleep. You were running on fumes two months ago, man. Now? Now I don't know what you're running on, but it ain't good."

"You don't understand."

"Dean! You are torturing yourself! You won't let me help you – you won't forgive yourself – the only person you ever let help you or absolve you, forgive you, was Dad!"

"I don't deserve his forgiveness!" Dean looked up at Sam, eyes wet with unshed tears. "Maybe I wasn't clear enough when I told you what I did. Sammy, I _tortured souls_. I made people cry. I made them scream. I made them beg. And Sammy, I enjoyed it – finally getting some of my pain back. I fucking enjoyed ripping them apart, separating their skin from their bones. For ten years, Sammy, every day. I'm a fucking monster!"

"You withstood for thirty years, though, Dean. It's not your fault. Anybody would crack after that much torture."

"No, they wouldn't! _Dad _didn't!"

Sam stepped back, surprised. "He didn't?"

"No, he didn't," spat Dean bitterly. He couldn't meet Sam's eyes. "But I did." Dean paused for a moment, just sounding tired now. "He's not going to be proud of me, Sam. He's going to be disgusted with me. Hate me. Want to put me down just like one of the monsters he hunts. And-" Dean's voice cracked. "And he should, Sammy, he should. Hell, if I wasn't such a coward, I'd do it myself."

"You're wrong, Dean. As much as Dad and I have had our differences-" Dean quirked an eyebrow, letting out a half hysterical bark of laughter "-I know he's better than that. He's not going to hate you. You're his son."

Dean just shook his head, biting his lip. "I'm not the man he wanted me to be, Sam. I fucked up. I failed. Just – please, Sammy. I can't."

"If you can't bring yourself to walk out there and see him, I'll bring him in here. There's only one door, and no windows. You'll see him, one way or another."

Shoulders slumped, Dean whispered. "I can't, Sammy. I – they broke me, and it's too late. I don't have any strength left to fight."

Sam looked on, one tear trickling down his face at his brother's pain. "Alright, Dean." He turned and left the room.

Just a minute later, the door opened and Sam and John walked back in. Dean was standing in the same spot Sam had left him in, only now he was so rigid that Sam could practically see him vibrating with tension. Sam stopped at the door, wanting to be there in case John fucked things up, but wanting to give them some semblance of privacy. John walked over until he was standing right in front of the guilt-ridden Winchester.

"Dean," said the older man softly, eyes sad but warm. He reached out to put his hand on his son's shoulder.

Dean flinched backwards violently, but stayed right where he was.

"Dean!" John's voice was shocked, hurt. "Do you – do you honestly expect me to hit you?"

"It's better than I deserve, sir." His voice was soft, low. Defeated.

John paused for a minute, and Sam tensed, ready to move to shield his brother, but then John reached out and pulled Dean into a hug, wrapping him in strong arms and holding him tight, as if to hold the pieces of Dean together. "_Son_. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I failed you and Sam."

If anything, Dean seemed more tense now than he had before, and he pulled back after just a moment – a moment where it was clear as day to Sam that all Dean wanted to do was sink into his father's embrace and believe that everything was okay. "Did-did Sam tell you what I've done?"

John surveyed him for a moment, before nodding slightly. "A bit. But why don't you tell me yourself? I want to know exactly what happened."

Sam knew that if he could see Dean's face, it would be crumpling with anguish. He stepped forward, fists clenched, ready to pull John away from Dean. Dean wasn't ready for this! But John glanced back at Sam, meeting his eyes and shaking his head slightly. He still seemed to be in control, and Sam hesitated before stepping back. For once, he'd let John go and hope, trust, pray, that John knew what he was doing. God only knew that Sam didn't know what he was doing anymore.

"Yes, sir," said Dean, eyes still locked on the ground. He hadn't looked at John once yet – not unless catching a glimpse of his shoes counted. "I fucked up. I wasn't there to have Sam's back, and he died. The one thing you'd always asked me to do, and I failed at it. I had to set things right. So I – I went to a crossroads. Sold my soul for Sam's life and a year with him." Dean licked dry lips. "Guess that's the Winchester way, huh? Sell your soul to save someone you love?" There was silence for a split second, before Dean rushed on. "Sorry – I wasn't trying to compare myself to you, sir, I know I'm not that good-"

"That's enough," said John, voice rough but oddly gentle. "Continue."

"When the year was up, Hell came after me. Dragged me down there. And, well – you know what it's like. Alastair oversaw my torture, and every day, every day, he'd offer me a choice. Another day of torture, or – or having it all stop, so long as I took up the knife and started torturing for him. I know – I know he offered you the same damn choice. But I-" Dean's voice cracked and he choked, turning away from his father. "I failed, sir. I was weak. After thirty years, I just – I just couldn't do it anymore. And I took that knife, and I tortured for Alastair."

Sam could hear the tears in Dean's voice, and he ached to go hold him and tell him that it was okay. Everything would be alright. Even if Dean couldn't that, wouldn't want the chick-flick moment, he wanted to at least hand him a beer and maybe sneak in a word about how it wasn't his fault. But everything he'd tried so far had failed, and so now he held back, hoping that John could fix this. Could put Dean back together again.

"Ten years. Ten years I tortured for him. And then – then Castiel, an angel, pulled me out of Hell. Like they did with you." Dean shook his head. "I was the first seal. I gave in, I was weak, and I brought on the Apocalypse."

Sam started. He hadn't known that – hadn't known Dean was carrying that guilt around with him, too.

"I'm responsible for all of this crap now, and for the agony of those I tortured. I caused it. I did it." He was silent for a minute. "I'm a fucking monster. Castiel says that I'm now the only one who can stop the Apocalypse, and win this war, but I can't. I'm not the man you wanted me to be, D-dad. I'm not the torturer Alastair wanted me to be. And I sure as hell ain't the goddamned savior Castiel wants me to be. I can't do it. They pinned their hopes on the wrong guy, and now everyone is going to pay for it. Because I wasn't – am not – strong enough. Because I fail at everything I try to do. Because I'm pathetic."

Tears ran down John's face. "Stop. Dean, stop."

Dean shut up instantly. Sam could see, though, the way he curled in upon himself, somehow managing to make himself look smaller and more vulnerable.

"Look at me, Dean."

Slowly, Dean turned around to face his father again. Then, even more slowly, he raised his head until he was meeting John's eyes, and Sam knew that only a lifetime of conditioning himself to obey his father's commands had enabled Dean to follow that order, because Dean _was _broken. Somewhere between going to Hell and coming back, Dean had been shattered into a million pieces, and his eyes revealed just how defenseless and exposed he was at this point. They showed a self-loathing and disgust far beyond what Sam had ever seen before, and a certain belief that his father was going to reject him for what he'd done. There wasn't a shred of hope showing on Dean's face, just the resigned, despairing look of one sentenced to the gallows.

"_I _failed _you_," said John. "I'm your father, and it's my job to protect you and Sam, and I didn't. I wasn't there. I made mistakes. I should have never made you responsible for Sam's well-being. I shouldn't have laid that on you, and I certainly never meant for you to take it to heart so much that you would sell your soul for Sam's life. I failed there, Dean. You always were a good hunter, a good _soldier_, and I praised you for that – but I never told you that I was proud of you for you. I never told you that I loved you, unconditionally. I taught you to base your life, your existence, your self-worth around Sam, and that wasn't fair to you. To either of you."

John looked back at Sam, old hurt showing from his eyes. "If I hadn't done that, you never would have been in Hell, Dean. But even without that – I don't blame you for what happened in Hell. I don't blame you, and I certainly don't hate you for it. Matter of fact, I don't know how I kept from breaking. All I know is that I held onto you two and Mary. I couldn't imagine what you two would think, or what Mary would think, if you found out that I'd given in.

"But then – then it got even harder, because once they had you, Dean, they started showing me you. They had you for a while first, but then they started showing me what they were doing to you, all of the ways they'd found to carve you up and cause you agony, and they offered me a new choice. Alastair said that if I gave in, not only would they stop torturing me, but they'd also stop torturing you. I came so close, Dean. I came so damn close to giving in, just to stop your pain, because I love you and can't bear to see you hurting like that. If you hadn't given in, I would have, and it only would have taken another few days. They forced me to watch them torture you for a month or two, at most, and I came so close to giving in and picking up the blade myself."

"You're not alone, Dean. I know what it was like down there. I know how bad it hurts. And although I don't know what it's like to walk around knowing that I've tortured someone, I know that I am so damn proud of you. I'm proud of you for who you are, and who you've become, and proud of you for holding out for thirty years. I'm so damn sorry that my mistakes forced you to that point. I forgive you, Dean, and I think you've punished yourself enough. Now all I have to ask is this: Can you forgive me?"

Dean was stunned. He stood there, trembling, throughout the entire speech. Sam hurt to see the hope blossom so slowly across his brother's face, but joyous to see it there at all.

"S-sir?"

"Shhh. Dad, please," said John. "I did a lot of thinking while I was in Hell, and I realized that I never should have raised you two as soldiers, as hunters. You're damn good ones, but I never should have put you through that. And if I'm never called sir by you two again, it won't be soon enough."

"Dad. Dad." Dean repeated the word as if he was trying it out, hesitant of the way it would sound, of the way John would react to him using it. "I – you forgive me?"

John reached out and grasped Dean's shoulders, looking him hard in the eyes. "There was hardly anything to forgive, son, but yes. Do you forgive me?"

A tentative smile broke out across Dean's face. "Y-yes. Yes. Dad, yes. I-" He leaned forward, just a millimeter or so, and then suddenly he was in John's arms, face buried in his father's shoulder. Sobs wracked his frame.

Sam looked away, feeling hopeful again for the first time in a long while himself. Dean wasn't "fixed," not by a long shot, and it would probably be years before he ever, if he ever, fully forgave himself for what he'd done in Hell. They still had a bunch of pissed off demons and angels on their trail, and an Apocalypse to try and stop. And Sam wasn't fool enough to think that he and John wouldn't be butting heads again within a day. Still, Dean had taken the first steps towards forgiving himself, or at least not hating himself, and John was back – as much as Sam hated to admit it, he'd missed his father. No matter what happened now, at least they could face it as a family.

A.N. So… this is my first Supernatural fanfiction. Please, tell me what you think of it! I was just watching Season 4 (I was just recently introduced to Supernatural, and so am still on Season 4… It's so good!) and was thinking about all of the anguish and guilt Dean must be feeling, and really wanted to give him a little comfort (with some hurt, too, of course… why is it so much fun to hurt him?), and thought that the best way to do that would be through his father. I may not always have liked John, but Dean desperately wants his approval, and so I imagined that this talk would have really comforted Dean, as much as he would hate to admit it.

As to how John is back… well, I alluded to it slightly in the story, but in my head the angels pulled John back out of Hell to help Sam and Dean stop the apocalypse. Clearly, I have no clue if that is going to happen, but it seems a likely option. Just like I also have no idea of whether or not the demons showed John what they were doing to Dean – although I think it likely, since that would cause any parent immense anguish. I also imagined that over 100 years in Hell would have changed John considerably, which is why he seems so much nicer in here than he ever did in the show. He's had a lot of time to think about his mistakes.

This was completely unbetaed, so any and all mistakes are mine – please review and tell me about them and I'll try and fix them!


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